in inches.

i ran down the hill toward home.

home for now.

the air was cool, bordering on blistery, but certainly not becoming of february.

my feet throbbed and i wondered why i had chosen to wear my blue-suede-pumps to work--where was the sense in that?

it was close to two, middle of the night, exhaustion creeping in that uncomfortable way around the back of the head.

this is your becoming, this is your becoming, i repeated, calling forth the wisdom of my elders and betters.

i could make a list of everything that's upsetting me. and in three months time most of the issues will have passed or receded or proved blessings. i know this. there is comfort in this.

and yet, three years ago i might have said the same, but there are still those few, same uncomfortable, unanswered questions. the same unanswered love, the same unfulfilled home in this city.

this is your becoming.

it can change in a new york minute. that's what they say. but it's been eight years now and any good changes have been a fight. slow and painstaking and absolutely measured in inches--won in inches and years. nothing resembling a minute.

this is your becoming.

you see, most days i feel like i'm banging my head against the same damn walls and lord i need a good cry, but hell if it'll come.

this is your becoming.

just one good thing, i think. one good, unexpected little miracle. let it surprise me.

that's all i want.

i sit with that wish. for a good long while i let it take up just enough space, careful it doesn't consume.

and then, just the other day, while listening to the avett brothers and paging through a script on the long, unforgiving train to the outer-fringes of brooklyn, there is a thought:

you are the miracle.

this is my becoming.

i am the miracle. my very existence. the breath that rises and falls. the little rebel heart that continues to pump blood, continues to fall in love even when i can't see the sense, or summon the strength. the will to be better, to be more, to see wider and love more freely, i. am. the miracle.

the rest will come. because i exist and i want and i'm willing to fight--even in inches. each day is more, even when it feels little and ugly--the day is more. the inches will add up, the inches will accumulate.

this is my becoming.
i am the miracle.